


Hazy Lights

by Automne



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Depression, Friends With Benefits, Future Fic, Implied Sexual Content, In which Shintarou is a doctor, M/M, Smoking, and Ryouta a famous model
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Automne/pseuds/Automne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all starts with a single cigarette, and it ends with Shintarou questioning his life choices. Because despite everything, he finds that he does care, very much so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hazy Lights

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't really have a clear start nor a clear end, I really just wanted a smoking Ryouta but it ended up quite depressing. Don't read if you're sensible to that kind of subject.

   There was still a certain awkwardness to waking up in a bed that wasn't yours, naked, memories of last night blurred and tangled. At this point, Shintarou was positive that he would never truly get accustomed to this kind of situation, even if he knew where he was, and with who, and didn't have any regrets. He wouldn't say it occured frequently, but he couldn't define it as a rare occurence either - somehow, he always ended up in this apartment, this bed, next to this person every time he needed relief. After all, being a doctor wasn't a relaxing job in any way, and being single, sexual frustration would eventually build inside the young man on top of his many tiring and emotionally draining responsabilites. Having started about a year ago, Shintarou dedicated all his waking hours to his job, which meant he couldn't possibly spend time looking for a romantic partner, and besides, he had never really been good at dating. Being homosexual, it narrowed down the list of possible companions. Overall, a friend with benefits, as Ryouta liked to call it, was the best option. 

The first time had been a surprise for him, and he assumed it had been for Ryouta as well, although he couldn't be sure - he didn't want to think too much about it, the blond had always been hard to figure out. A few months ago, the model had suddenly started pestering after two years of barely any contact, apart from birthday and new year wishes. Ryouta wanted them to meet up, and he wouldn't leave it alone, no matter how many times Shintarou turned him down, politely at first and then rather harsh. However, this method hadn't worked while they were in high school, and it hadn't worked this time either. Eventually, the young doctor had had to give in, finding time in his very busy timetable for a night with his ex teammate. But that wasn't enough; being famous, Ryouta kept on whining that he couldn't possibly go out on a saturday night in the center of Tokyo, that his fans would disturb them, and had offered for their meeting to take place in the models' apartment, which, Shintarou later found out, was close to the center of Tokyo anyway. But there was no convincing the blond, and before Shintarou had been able do argue, the date had been set.

Shintarou had had to sneak in, as Ryouta had adviced, and this had put the guest in a rather bad mood already. He hadn't had any real expectations for this reunion, and a part of him honestly hoped it would be a one time thing. When he had opened the door, Ryouta had been as cheerful and charming as Shintarou remembered. His hair had grown a bit, and he had found the courage to pierce his second ear in the time they had spent apart. They had sat in the blonds' luxurious living room, and as expected, Ryouta had done all the talking, asking numerous questions about Shintarous' life and explaning his even if he wasn't asked to. With the help of a champagne bottle, which Shintarou found out of place but Ryouta had insisted on keeping, the green-haired man had finally began to warm up, going as far as to smile. Two hours had went by, and eventually, they had run out of conversation topics. Shintarou didn't remember the details, but they had somehow ended up making out on the couch, and he had been completely willing. Neither of them had been drunk, they were fully conscious and consenting. Expectingly, it had led to sex. In the morning, there had been no love confession, no regretful tears; they had parted with the promise of meeting again. 

And so they had. This was the seventh time, and Shintarou found that he didn't mind if this went on for more. 

Ususally, Shintarou woke up to the sound of the shower. This time, however, he couldn't hear anything coming from the bathroom. Slightly unsettled, the doctor opened his eyes softly, unable to see far without his glasses, although noticing that just like everytime, neither of them had thought about properly closing the curtains, and as a result various sun rays shone on the bed, one of which fell right on Shintarous' left eye. With a grunt, the man shifted his position to the right, blindly reaching for his glasses on the night table. As it took hold of the object, setting it on his nose, he felt the mattress cave next to him, and turning his head to the other side, he was met with Ryoutas' left side. So that's where he was. 

"Good morning, Midorimacchi~" The host greeted cheerfully. The fact that Ryouta was an early riser would never stop surprising Shintarou. Yet, it proved to be useful, as the Cancer would always end up waking too late after a long night, which led to him missing Oha Asa; Ryouta had offered to watch it for him. The model would also cook sometimes, seeing as Shintarou was utterly useless in the kitchen. Ryouta was too lazy to do anything ellaborate, but Shintarou had been greeted with rice and omellette twice already, and it had been pleasant. 

"Are you still asleep?" Ryouta asked after the lack of response, poking his friends' shoulder. His hand got slapped away, only earning a groan from Shintarou. Even with his glasses on, the taller man could still sleep if he wanted to, or at least relax until he was ready to deal with the world again. 

"If you're interested, Cancer ranked 5th today, and you're lucky item is a pair of orange gloves!"

"Kise, shut up."

"Ah, Midorimacchis' voice is sexy in the morning~" Shintarou didn't need to look to know the other was grinning. Being used to this kind of teasing didn't stop the doctor from blushing, and he rolled on his stomach as to hide the betraying colour of his cheeks. A mumbled 'idiot' escapes his lips, but remains unheard by the other.

A few seconds past before Shintarou felt Ryouta leave the bed, faintly hearing the model walk around the room and eventually coming back, after what seemed like long minutes of aimless wandering. He just hoped that whatever his lover was doing right now would soon stop, and that he would settle down once and for all, allowing Shintarou a few more minutes lazing off in the large, comfortable bed. And his wish seemed to be fulfilled, as the room is silent for a moment. But then, a familiar and somehow out of place clicking noise assured him that there would be no more peace for him this morning. Maybe it was for the best, it had to be past 9 already, which meant he should get going even if it was a Sunday. His profession required him to be accessible at any given time. With a loud sigh, Shintarou used his elbows to support the top half of his body, and turning his head he had a remotely good view of the blond. In the motion, the covers that had been covering his naked body slipped down his shoulders to the middle of his back. The small amount of skin he had exposed was enough to make him feel slightly embarassed already, having always been shy when it came to showing his body. Ryouta didn't have that kind of shame, he would often walk around the apartment in tight underwears only, just like he had been doing moments ago. 

The sight Shintarou was met with managed to surprise him. In all his glory, Ryouta was sitting casually as sun rays graced his back and his hair, which in such light seemed golden, head lazily tilted back, eyes half closed and unfocused, dense smoke leaving barely parted lips in whilring cloud. It was stunning - and the thought came from Shintarou, who was a perfectionist. Yet the scene was just breathtaking, and all he could do was stare at the older male. There was a reason Ryouta was a model, he looked good whatever he was doing. 

"You're staring~" The blond teased, his attention shifting towards the man in his bed, not even bothering to turn his head.

"I didn't know you smoked." If he had been more awake, and less taken aback by how gorgeous Ryouta was, his remark would've been a lot different, maybe a simple 'tch', which was his default response to the models' provocations. His out of character response seemed to surprise his partner as well, whos' expression turned from devilous to geniunely confused, before regaining a more neutral façade. 

"Yeah, I guess you didn't." As if on the defensive, Ryouta leant away from Shintarou, taking a drag from his cigarette, suddenly more serious. 

"When did you start?" The taller of the two wondered, brows wrinkling slightly. Ryouta wasn't looking at him anymore, and released a lighter and clearer smoke this time, before answering.

"About two months ago."

Silence fell again, during which Shintarou tried to stare as discreetly as he could. Ryouta was a work of art in himself, but the doctor couldn't help but feel worried. It wasn't his place to say Ryouta shouldn't smoke, they weren't even friends, no matter how much the blond loved to label them as such. No, if anything, they were fuck buddies and that was it. Whatever start of a friendship they might have had while in highschool was gone now, and Shintarou was perfectly contant with their current relationship. He shouldn't even mind that Ryouta smoked, and yet, there he was - making up reasons as to what had led to picking up this habit, if it was even one. He wouldn't worry, that would be ridiculous coming from him. 

"You can stop now, Midorimacchi." His ton is more cool, cold even, bored, detached. The sunny outside isn't enough to brighten up the tense atmosphere anymore, as the smoke swirls in the light rays. 

"Stop what?"

"Staring. I don't like it."

"You chose to smoke in my presence. Don't expect me to not look." Ryouta visibly flinched, taking one last drag from his cigarette, before walking over to the trash can and carelessly dropped the cigarette butt. 

"After I invited you so generously..." The smile was obviously fake in Shintarous' eyes, and the blonds' ton was a pale immitation of his usual teasing one. Shintarou rolled on his back, before standing up, making sure to keep the covers over his genitals as he stretched, spotting his underwears at hand reach and putting them on before completely leaving the bed. The hair on his whole body stood up when he was exposed to the cooler air, shuddering once before promptly putting on his shirt. He was going to reach for his pants when fingers softly touched his neck, pressing gently against a particularly tender spot. He instinctively brought his own hand over his neck, pushing the invasive hand away and turning to face Ryouta.

"I hope you didn't leave any marks." Shintarou annonced, glaring with all his might. A visible hickey would ruin his reputation at the hospital, and he couldn't allow this to happen.

"No, of course not~ I just remembered this is one of your most sensible spots, isn't it?" Shintarou immediately reddened, taking a step aback as to avoid the touch.

"Stop it. I have to get ready."

"But Midorimacchi~ Can't you stay a bit more? It gets lonely here all alone..." Ryouta offered his best puppy eyes face, pouting like a child at the other male.

"Call someone else to keep you company." While his answer was geniune, Shintarou couldn't bring himself to look the model straight in the eyes, as himself wanted to stay - but it would stop feeling like a casual fuck if he lingered more than necessary, and took part in more activities than simply sex. He didn't want them to form a bond of any nature.

"But you're here already, why call someone else?" 

"Because I'm busy, and I'm leaving." To give a more definite intonation to his resolution, Shintarou hastly put on his pants, fastened his shirt, found his socks and tie before heading to the leaving room, in case he had left anything there last night. Sure enough, Ryouta followed, albeit quietly for once. It was almost unsettling, but Shintarou refused to allow himself to care. 

"You know, everyone says the first time you smoke, it burns and makes you tear up." The words were spoke softly, oddly so, and after a few seconds of no reaction Ryouta continued. "Well, they lie. It doesn't really do anything to your throat at first, but you feel different." A shrug, and an empty smile. "I can't really tell if it's better or worse, but it's definitely different." Checking his pockets, then the table, Shintarou spotted his watch, but his phone remained out of his sight for now. Annoyed, he began searching the couch and other places he remembered sitting on last night. He was listining as well, against his will, because to him it was just another trap from Ryouta to keep him. 

"It's really weird, so I tried another one the next day. After that, you kinda feel nauseous, but not really. I didn't know if I liked it or not, so I took another one right after, and I threw up." The model vaguely remembered stopping half way through the second cigarette and having to rush to the toilet, realising too late it had been a bad idea to push himself. "But two or three days later, I smoked one again, and this time it wasn't as bad. I still couldn't decide if I liked it, and I can't now either, that's why I keep going~" With a sigh, Ryouta let himself fall on the couch Shintarou had just checked, sprawling himself on it while keeping an eye on his ex teammate. "What are you looking for, Midorimacchi?"

"My phone." The other grumbled, getting worried it might've been stolen on his way here.

"Ah, so you are listining~" The blond grinned lazily, and Shintarou refused to look in his direction.

"Smoking is bad for your lungs, and your health overall."

"You're saying this because you're a doctor, but it's not that bad. Actually, I feel great!" The blond rolled to onto his stomach, one arm dangling off the couch. "I'm a hot smoker, don't you think? The fans are going to love it!"

Shintarou unconsciously stopped his search, staring blankly at the messy pile of magazines before him, his mind focused on a whole other matter. Why was Ryouta pushing it? Couldn't he just drop it, if he didn't want to talk about it in the first place? Shintarou had never been really good with social behaviour, but this was odd, even he could tell. Besides, there was something off about the way the model talked - like an absence. 

"Why did you stop, Midorimacchi?"

"I didn't." With that, the troubled man began looking through the magazines again, although it was highly unlikely his phone was here.

"Right~" Ryouta sat up, looking directly at the other, something which he had been avoiding since the beginning of the conversation. "Say, Midorimacchi..."

"What now."

"I won't die from it, will I?"

Shintarou froze, before frowning heavily, being careful to keep his face hidden from Ryouta. There was something in the others' voice, akin to want, to hope, to despair - an odd mix that the doctor didn't know how to interpret or deal with. And no matter how much he wished to simply not care, a voice in his mind, who had grown louder and louder, would repeat tirelessly: _but you care, you do care_. It was painful, to say the least. 

"It doesn't kill directly, no. It however increases the chances of you dying from something else."

"Ah, is that so~..."

Shintarou stopped his searches, standing up from his croutching position, keeping his back to the blond lazing of on the couch. 

"Kise."

"Hm? What is it Midorimacchi?" 

A sharp intake of breath, clenched fists, tense muscles.

"Do you want to die?"

Ryoutas' eyes widden, and he couldn't be more grateful that Shintarou isn't facing him. 

"I-... Midorimacchi, what a weird question..."

"Do you?"

"Are you threatening me?" Ryouta was trying his best to sound as playful as usual, but it was a difficult task right now, and his ton sounded fake to his own ears.

"Of course not, idiot." It was supposed to be simple question, except in all the ways it wasn't. If only Ryouta would answer, it would be much easier.

"It's not my fault you ask such a stupid question-..."

"Then answer already."

"No!" It came out louder than wanted and expected, and even Ryouta was surprised by the strenght of his voice. "No, I don't want to die, I'm just bored and tired all the time, and I want to have fun like before." Shintarou turned around at the words, a concerned look on his face, completely forgetting to hide his worry for once. He was getting too involved, but he couldn't back out anymore.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, you know what I mean! Don't you miss it too Midorimacchi? Do you think you're happy right now?" His anger was cold, the type that lingered, that he had to deal with everyday, the type that came from slow depression.

"I am." Shintarou pushed his glasses up, a mouvement that betrayed his obvious discomfort. "I have my dream job, I'm financially stable-..."

"You're not  _happy_ , Midorimacchi. You're just trying to convince yourself that you are, but it doesn't work like that." Ryouta had stood up as he talked, glaring at the surprised Shintarou. "Trust me, I tried." His shoulders fell and his head hung low as he whispered the last words. He walked right past Shintarou, grabbing a cigarette pack that was lying on a table nearby, along with a lighter. In the heavy silence, he lighted up the cigarette between his lips, muttering a few cusses before taking one long drag, releasing it in a tired sigh. Shintarou slowly half-turned so that he could at least see the model, who was only a meter away now.

"Thing is, you're lonely and empty." The smoker took another drag, before smirking. "That's why you come back to get fucked so often~"

Shintarous' face turned red, more out of anger than embarassement; he didn't like the man he was talking to right now, and he didn't like being confronted with the truth either. He seemed to be slowly peeled of all his layers, and there was no hiding his thoughts from himself anymore.

"You... You have no right to say that. You-"

"Oh? But I'm right though, am I not?" He licked his lips, light smoke leaving his mouth. He knew what he was doing, he knew he was pushing his limits right now, but he didn't seem to care - and in a way, it was almost frightning. 

"That's not the point. You're being disrespectful and provocative for no valid reason." His gaze hardened and his fist clenched up, not willing to let the blond get away with his words. Instead of replying, Ryouta looked away, face already a lot calmer than before. 

"I'm sorry, Midorimacchi. That wasn't fair." The end of the cigarette was starting to burn out, and without even looking, the model pressed the cigarette butt on the table before throwing it away. "If you're looking for your phone, it's in the kitchen."

"Wait, you knew where it was? Why didn't you tell me before?!"

"I guess I wanted to keep you around a little longer." The older man shrugged, eyes unfocused, staring out the window. Shintarou took his view in a last time, the way the model seemed so at is, although barely covered, light shining on his bust. Then, the doctor went to the kitchen to retrieve his phone, and sure enough it laid on the counter, innocently obvious. He passed by the living room one more time, before heading to the entrance door, and as he was putting his coat and shoes he could hear slow steps following him. 

"Hey. You'll come again, right?"

"Mhm." Standing up, wrapping a scarf around his neck, the green haired man turned around, the blond for once taller than him due to the level difference in there positions. "Goodbye, Kise."

"Goodbye, Midorimacchi." His smile was forced, fake, and his eyes were empty. Shintarou nodded, openeing the entrance door and leaving once and for all. He still had to go through a partially hidden door, where he had less chance to get caught sneaking out, but his mind was elsewhere at the moment. Because to him, right now, his life seemed like a lie; maybe he had spent to much time lying to himself. Maybe he did lack something, and faking being content with his situation wasn't working anymore. But he had no right to complain - he was smart, remotely attractive, he was young, he had life ahead of him, but the future appeared hollow. And Ryouta had helped him realise that, but maybe it would've been better if he hadn't.

Before he could stop them, tears begin rolling on his cheeks, as he remaind expressionless.  _You're right. I miss it, too._

He should come back soon.


End file.
